


Five Tales of Sinful Salacity

by kickcows



Series: Blowvember [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Asphyxiation, Cock Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, Lapdance, M/M, Master/Slave, Mild BDSM, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/pseuds/kickcows
Summary: This is a collection of five one shots that will all be rated Mature. Each chapter will have its own individual summary.  Ch 1 - Under the cover of night, Vincent heads to Undertaker's shop in order to find a bit of relief that he can't find anywhere else. Ch 2 - The Earl of Phantomhive is having a meeting with his confidants, and slips out of the room only to be followed by Undertaker. Which is exactly what Vincent wants. Ch 3 - Vincent receives an unmarked package that contains a device that can only be used for one thing - sexual pleasure. Ch 4 - Undertaker visits Vincent at the Phantomhive estate, where he assumes the role of Vincent’s master, and is catered to his needs by him. Ch 5 - Vincent learns that his family is to go on an extended holiday to Paris. He races to spend his last night in London with the one person that matters more to him than anyone else on the planet - Undertaker.
Relationships: Vincent Phantomhive/Undertaker
Series: Blowvember [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534664
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. To the Basement

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my second offering for ‘Blowvember’, and the first for this pairing! As stated elsewhere, I will be using prompts from this ['Kinktober'](https://heartlessfujoshi.tumblr.com/post/188731450940/please-do-not-repost-only-reblog-ty) list, and will be writing for six fandoms. Each pairing will have 5 one shots. This is the first for VinTaker. Please enjoy! 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the cover of night, Vincent heads to Undertaker's shop in order to find a bit of relief that he can't find anywhere else.

* * *

Vincent’s gaze shifts from left to right as he walks down a seedy pathway, his coat tucked tight around his body as the bitter fog of London swirls around him. It’s always more dense in this part of the city, the waterfront close by to the proprietor's shop to which he makes haste to get to. He hears wooden wheels travel over cobblestones, horses neighing their displeasure as a whip can be heard cracking. His body shivers at the sound, his gait returning to a brisk pace as he gets closer to his destination. 

A coffin rests against the wall to the right of the entrance, and an unmarked gravestone sits to the left. Pushing some of the hair off of his face, he puts one hand into his coat pocket while he uses the other to push the door open. The familiar sound of three bells ring above his head as he walks into the shop, letting the owner know that he has a visitor. 

“Just a moment, please!” His hand goes to the belt on his coat, giving it a tug as the heat in the shop is a sharp contrast to the gloom outside. “Yes, can I - well, well.” Long strands of grey hair flow over the shop owner’s shoulders, a gleeful look on his scarred face. Yellow green eyes - the most striking feature on his face - give off an unnatural glow from the mixture of both candlelight and electric light. “Come for another night of mischief?” 

He nods his head, as his heart pounds quick. The strong muscle strains against his ribcage, as his coat falls open. “I came as soon as I could.” He pushes some of the hair off of his face. “I tried to leave earlier, but-” 

“Shh.” The man who goes by the name of Undertaker stands in front of him, placing a long black nail against his lips. “What have I told you before, young Vincent?” 

“Never apologize.” He stares into Undertaker’s yellow-green eyes, enthralled by the power he sees there. Puckering his lips a little, he gives the pad of Undertaker’s finger a little kiss then follows it with a flick of his tongue. 

A pleased laugh leaves the mortician’s throat, which causes the hairs on his arms to stand on end. “I see one thing has been retained in that skull of yours. Come along - we’ll head down to the basement.” 

“What about the shop?” 

“It will be fine. It’s late - not a lot of clientele come in this late, as most murders take place in the dead of night.” Undertaker cackles, as he walks towards the curtain separating the shop from the rest of the dwelling. “I left the door unlocked for you~. Hi hi hi.” That staccato laugh sends the same shiver down his spine as the whip hitting the horses outside had. Bracing himself, he follows the mortician to the back of the shop and heads down the stairs to the basement. 

Candles burn down here, no traces of electrical wiring. The basement is divided into a few separate areas. It’s a den of torture - torturing of one’s mind, and of one’s sexual proclivity. On the wall are metal shackles - both wrist and ankle, Vincent’s limbs aching with the memory of having used that device a few weeks ago. In the middle of the room is a stretching rack, with restraints covering the entire table so that the unfortunate soul trapped on the rack would have nowhere to go. To the right of that is an oversized coffin, which the mortician claims helps build character when one goes into it - Vincent refuses to touch that device. 

Two hands fall onto his shoulders. “Now, which will you choose tonight? What _arouses_ you the most, my dearest Vincent?” 

“The wall.” He nods his head towards the shackles. 

“Then take off your clothes, and go stand by it.” Long strands of silver starts to fall over his shoulder, as Undertaker speaks near his ear. “Are we on a schedule tonight?” 

“No.” His finger loosens the Windsor knot at his throat, and slowly slips the slip off. “Use this tonight.” He hands it to him, unbuttoning his vest next. 

“So you’re in _that_ kind of mood tonight? Hi hi hi.” Vincent strips out of his coat, then takes off his shirt and vest. “Are we also using a blindfold?” 

“Please.” Taking the rest of his clothes off, he walks across the floor to be by the wall. It’s cool down in the basement, but he knows that it’s only a minor inconvenience at the moment. He’ll be warm in due time. Modesty no longer something he clings to, he turns around so that his back is to the wall, and brings his hands to be above his head. His cock is jutting outwards, already in an aroused state. 

Undertaker approaches him, his tie resting over his shoulder while a black cloth is now in his hand. “Let’s take away those pretty eyes of yours.” The blindfold sets comfortably against the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing as total darkness is brought to him. “How’s that?” 

“Perfect, my friend.” He whispers, his heart palpitating in his chest. He moans softly as the touch of Undertaker’s lips against his plumps up his cock a little more. 

The shackles rest comfortably against his wrists, taking away his hands from being used this evening. One long nail drags against the rigid flesh, causing him to gasp softly. “What are our rules tonight, dear Vincent?” 

“Whatever you wish.” Swallowing thickly, the comfortable weight of shackles around his ankles puts him completely at the mercy of the mortician. 

Silk touches his neck, as it’s wrapped around the base in such a way that can be tightened or loosened at any given moment. “No coming until I tell you. Beg all you want.” A long nail scrapes against the underside of his cock, causing him to twist his hips to relieve the itch it’s bringing to his body. “But I won’t comply until I think you’ve had enough.”

“I understand.” The tension in his shoulders is impossible to get rid of, as he’s on high alert as the nail is taken away. Something wet and soft touches the tip of his cock, Vincent tossing his head back as he releases a sensual moan. “Oh, hell…” 

Undertaker’s lips keep tight around the tip, as two nails are dragged from his nipple down the length of his side. He tugs on the shackles, his legs spreading apart as he tries to adjust his hands but fails. It’s part of the game. His mind begins to dull, as the pleasure that’s being forced on his body begins to make his head swim. He realizes the tie around his neck is becoming tighter by the second, stealing his breath away. His hips stay still, the restraints making it impossible for him to move any which way. 

His chin drops forward when a soft _pop_ reaches his ears, and the wet heat is removed from around his cock. “Still with me, Vincent?” Undertaker’s voice sounds far away, but it’s clear enough that he nods his head slow, endorphins beginning to flood his blood stream as he’s brought to the edge of an orgasm. “Remember what I said…” A tug on the tie around his neck steals his breath away again, causing his cock to throb hard between his legs. 

“Not….until you….say….” He gasps out, his ass clenching tight to stave off the need to blow. 

The tie loosens, his head feeling light as a feather as he’s allowed to breathe properly. A warm hand touches his cock, the pad of Undertaker’s thumb now torturing the tip by rubbing small circles around the slit. “You always look so beautiful strung up for me.” Undertaker’s voice fills his ears, Vincent responding by turning his head towards the sound. “Listen to my voice. Don’t think about my hand right now.” 

“I can’t help it.” The shackles around both his wrists and ankles are yanked on as a deep moan leaves his throat. “Please, ‘Taker….” The blindfold begins to moisten as a few tears start to fall from the corners of both of his eyes. 

Vincent’s moans become guttural the more Undertaker teases the tip of his cock. “Now, now. We already set our rules. Not until I say you can~.” He’s pulled right back to the edge, his thoughts becoming slower as pleasure spreads throughout his body. 

He thrashes his head from side to side, which earns him a sharp pull on the tie around his neck. He gasps for breath, the lightheadedness returning as the hand around his cock now moves from base to tip at an irregular pattern. Vincent tries to sob, but the lack of oxygen is keeping the noises short and breathless. The tie is released, and he brokenly sobs as he offers his thanks to the mortician, who is cackling gleefully at the result of his sexual torture. 

The chains rattle against the wall as he struggles with his restraints. “_Please_, ‘Taker…” He tries again, this overwhelming need to achieve his completion keeping him in a right state. Another hard stroke to his cock pulls a deep sob out of him. 

“This is why you’re here.” The mortician whispers into his ear, as a finger is brought to his lips. He moans as he licks up his own thick cum, putting his lips around the tip as he licks it clean. “To revel in this sinful debauchery. You _like_ that I keep you dangling like this.” 

More cum touches his tongue after Undertaker swipes at the slit on the tip. He groans, collecting it all on his tongue before swallowing his own filth. “I do.” He nods his head slow, Undertaker’s hand back around his cock holding it loosely. “But I want to come…”

“You will, Vincent.” He fights against the restraints again, as the mortician tightens his fist around his cock. “Do it right now.” The tie around his neck is yanked on again, cutting off his air supply once more. “Obey _me_.” 

With everything happening, he can’t keep a hold on it any longer. His hips jut forward as a silent scream leaves his throat, the tip of his cock spilling his hot seed across the fingers that glide up and down it at a fast pace. He begins to lose consciousness as the pleasure consumes him completely, his body going rigid as his orgasm takes a firm hold. Darkness welcomes him as he passes out. 

Soft candlelight fills his vision a few moments later, as the blindfold is removed from his head. Blinking a few times, he stares up at Undertaker, who has a smile on his face. “Well done, Vincent. How do you feel?” 

“Like a King.” He slurs his words a little, drunk off of hedonistic pleasure. He laughs, leaning back against the wall. The metal cuffs around his hands are removed first, Undertaker placing some soothing balm on his wrists where the metal has chafed his skin. 

He whimpers softly, then is rewarded with a soft kiss to his lips. “Hush, now. You’re alright.” Undertaker kisses him again, then lowers down to his knees to remove the shackles around his ankles. “Come here~.” Vincent falls into Undertaker’s open arms, his body incapable of doing anything else. “Relax into me.” 

Undertaker carries him back up the stairs, and lays him down on his bed, Vincent curling up against the soft wool that covers the mortician’s torso. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving for a bit, ‘Taker.” His voice is a mere whisper, still dealing with the aftermath of the tie being used on his throat. 

“You know I don’t like you leaving too soon after we play.” Undertaker strokes his cheek, the scar running diagonal across his face easy to gaze on. “Close your eyes, and rest. When you wake, you’ll feel good as new.” 

“I know.” He kisses the mortician’s palm, his eyelids feeling heavier by the second. “It’s why I like coming here.” 

“Not because you wish to see me~? Why, Vincent.” 

A soft laugh leaves his throat. “Sorry, ‘Taker.” He wants to say more, but sleep begins to take a firm hold on him. 

When he wakes up, his clothes are back on his body, and the space next to him is now empty. Getting up from the bed, he feels rejuvenated - exactly what he’d hoped to achieve by showing up here this evening. His coat is draped across the bed, and he picks it up before leaving the room. He sees Undertaker standing at a coffin in the middle of his shop, taking measurements for a newly departed soul. 

“Off already?” Undertaker asks, as he approaches him. “Very well. Remember to apply more balm when you return home.” 

He looks at his wrists, and sees the marks. “I will. Thank you for your generosity this evening, ‘Taker.” He lifts up, and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back soon.” Slipping his coat on, he heads to the door leading back out to London. 

“I know you will. Take care~. Hi hi hi.” 

Smiling, he tips his head down and steps back out into the dense fog feeling a hell of a lot better than he had upon his arrival. Touching his neck, he releases a pleased hum and begins the long trek back home. 


	2. An Evil Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earl of Phantomhive is having a meeting with his confidants, and slips out of the room only to be followed by Undertaker. Which is exactly what Vincent wants. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my second one shot for this pairing! :) Please enjoy! 
> 
> Prompt: Cock Worship

* * *

The Queen’s Watchdog sits across the room, surrounded by his group of close confidants, men and women that help maintain the balance of the underground. Undertaker leans against the wall, and observes how Vincent doesn’t have to move in order to command attention in the room. It comes off of him in waves - any person would be a fool to refuse service to the Earl. Although the Earl is still a teenager - he's six month’s shy of his twentieth birthday - he commands the presence as if he were the oldest person in the room. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Vincent stand up from where he’s sitting and sees his hazel eyes turn towards him. People crowd around him as he takes his leave, Undertaker taking a few minutes before excusing himself from the conversation he’s currently listening to and casually follows the Earl out of the room. Having been through this before - they have a set routine with one another, and he’s surprised that Vincent’s schoolmate has yet to catch on to it, as he always tells him to be less obvious about it. But again, no one would dare question the Queen’s Watchdog, as he chooses to move about in whatever manner pleases him. 

He walks down the hallway, and heads down a shorter hallway to get to his destination. At the end of the hallway is a door that is usually closed, but now is slightly ajar. Undertaker reaches for the doorknob, then pushes the door open. The room faces west, the slow to set sun painting the countryside sky with gorgeous streaks of pink, orange and violet, illuminating the room in a soft glow. As he closes the door with a soft _click_, he feels a pair of hands touch his hips. Glancing down, he sees the Queen’s obedient dog on his knees with a look in his eyes that he knows well. 

“Go on, then.” Undertaker brings his hand to the top of Vincent’s head, as he sees him duck underneath his wool cassock. The pants he wears underneath are pulled down far enough to expose his cock to the room. He hisses softly as the soft touch of Vincent’s lips on the tip of his prick sends a burst of warmth to spread throughout his body. “You couldn’t wait, could you? Hi hi hi.” He rests his back against the solid oak door, his feet carefully spreading apart as more of his cock is pulled into Vincent’s mouth. “Had to have it right now?”

The wet heat disappears, and is replaced by a line of kisses going from the base up to the tip. “You know how much I love your cock.” Vincent whispers against the tip, the cool breath on his heated skin causing Undertaker to moan low. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you showed up.” 

“Is that why you didn’t invite me?” He asks, as Vincent’s mouth returns to sucking on the sensitive tip. “I had to crash your little soiree because you didn’t want to think about my cock?” 

“Yes.” The response is muffled, but it’s clear what the Earl has said. Vincent’s head reappears from being underneath his cassock, a look of worry on his brow. “Are you mad? Please don’t be mad, Taker.” 

Vincent holds his cock in a loose fist, staring up at him, expecting him to say something. “Why would I be mad?” He waits for Vincent to return his mouth to his prick before he continues. “You knew I would be here.” 

“No.” Lips are taken away again, as Vincent pops his head back out from underneath his cassock. “I had hoped you would show up, but until you walked through the door - I had assumed you wouldn’t be here.” 

“My dear Vincent.” Unbuttoning the lower half of his cassock so that he could see Vincent, he pushes his hips forward. The Earl takes the bait, and is quick to return to kissing all along the length of his cock. “As a humble servant to the Queen’s faithful Watchdog, I would be remiss if I didn’t know just what you and those lot that call themselves the Aristocrats of Evil are up to.” 

Spit now mixes with the precum that’s begun to seep from the slit, a thick string sticking to the bottom of Vincent’s bottom lip. “You know that I tell you everything, Taker.” _Lick_. “I could never keep any secrets from you.” _Lick_. “Your cock is so beautiful. You know that, right?” _Liiiick_.

“You only think that way because it was the first you saw that wasn’t your own.” He had taken it upon himself to teach Vincent about how to use his cunning looks to his advantage, which had led to becoming more intimate in ways that men usually do not advertise in polite society. Vincent had taken to it with no qualms, and he knew that the skills he’d taught him were being put to good use out in the world. “I’m no fool.” 

“But yours is the one that I think about when I’m with others.” The words ring in his ears, as he stares down at the way Vincent’s mouth continues to pay attention to his cock. “I’ve yet to meet a man as well endowed as you.” 

Pulling his hips back, Undertaker brings them forward and begins to slide his cock along the length of Vincent’s tongue. “I’m sure you’ll meet a man soon enough that will put me to shame.” 

“If I do, yours will still be the one I compare it to.” Their eyes meet, as the Earl’s lips pursed around his thick flesh. He pushes it further into his mouth, and then moans low as he feels the tip start to push against the back of his throat. 

He rolls his hips more, the attention that Vincent pours into this libidinous act fueling the need to fill his mouth full of his cum. “Tell me again, Vincent.” He murmurs low, the soft suction happening to his cock disappearing as his lover takes his mouth away. 

“I love your cock so much, Taker…” Vincent whispers against the tip, flicking the tip of his tongue over the slit. “If I were to die right now - I’d be the happiest man alive, as I was able to service you prior to my death.” 

Moaning low, he watches as more kisses are placed along the length of his prick. “I would be the saddest, as I would not be able to have some of the best fellatio I’ve ever experienced again.” He groans low, as Vincent keeps his lips wrapped firm around the tip and begins to suck. “No one appreciates me the way you do.” 

“They don’t understand.” The tip of Vincent’s nose pushes up against his pubic bone, as his cock is swallowed whole by the Earl. He rolls his hips back and forth, the ebb and flow of the way Vincent sucks on his cock thoroughly enjoyable. “I love worshipping you in ways no one else does.” 

His fingers curl tight on the base of the Earl’s neck, forcing him to stay static as he humps his face. “And I love that you do…” Undertaker pulls his hips back, until just the tip rests against Vincent’s bottom lip. “Take what I give to you, Vincent…” Moaning low, he begins to ejaculate into the Earl’s mouth, watching as each little burst collects on Vincent’s tongue. When he finally finishes, he puts his finger on Vincent’s chin, and pushes up. “Swallow it all down like the good dog that you are.” 

The comment is a tease, and he sees Vincent take it as such as he sees a smirk bloom on his lips as he makes a show of him swallowing. He sticks his tongue out, keeping his mouth open for him. “All gone.” Vincent stands up, and brings his face close to Undertaker’s. “Will you fill it up again later tonight?” 

“As long as you’re not required to go anywhere this evening.” He nods his head, then grabs Vincent by the shoulder, and lays a firm kiss to his lips. “Are you going to make me wait, though? Because if you are…” 

Vincent shakes his head, as he opens the door. “Not when I want to feel you inside of me tonight. Both in my mouth, and another part of my body.” The Earl gives a little wave, then leaves the room. 

“You will have it, my dear Vincent.” He murmurs, then begins to button his cassock back up. 

Returning to the den, no one remarks on his disappearance, as everyone has their complete attention on Vincent, who is seated off to the side of the room. However long this meeting lasts, Undertaker has no idea. But he knows that as soon as it’s over, and they’re alone - then the night will truly begin. 


	3. Glassware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent receives an unmarked package that contains a device that can only be used for one thing - sexual pleasure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my third one shot for these two! :) Please enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: Sex Toys

* * *

“Sir, I have a delivery here for you.” 

Looking up from his work, Vincent looks at his family’s butler and invites him into his study with a nod of his head. “Please, set it down for me?” He’s on holiday from Weston, and with the time off he’s spending time with his sister in their London townhouse. “Thank you. Is Francis still out?” 

“She is, sir. I believe she’s gone back to the countryside to visit with the Midfords.” 

Vincent picks up the box, and stares at it with curiosity. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting on the box. “I see. Did she say if she would be back this evening? Or am I dining alone tonight?” 

“Alone, sir.” 

“Thank you.” He nods, and waits for his family’s butler to close the door before grabbing his letter opener to help him get the wrapping off of the box. “Now, what could you be?” He speaks aloud to the room, wondering what sort of gift he was about to find hidden in the box. With the amount of enemies his family has, it could be any number of items. He hopes that it isn’t poison, as he has no wish to spend the rest of his break laid up in bed ill. 

Slipping the brown paper packaging off, he stares at the black box in wonder. Still as nondescript as the wrapping had been. Using the tip of his letter opener, he wedges it underneath the lid, and starts to push it up. He gets it all the way off, and upon seeing the contents of the gift he sits back in his chair with a smirk. 

Inside of the box lays what appears to be a glass pestle, but it’s not one that should ever be used in the kitchen. Reaching into the box, he picks it up and examines it, the shape of the pestle looking exactly like a certain body part that should not be shown in public society. The curve of the glass is minimal, with the tip at the end a little bit more bulbous than what a penis would normally look like. He rubs his thumb over the tip, then carefully shifts a little on his chair as he thinks about what this apparatus must be used for. 

Another knock on the door has him returning the gift to its home, and putting the lid back on the box. “Yes?” He calls out, as the door opens once more. 

“You have a visitor, sir.” His butler stays at the door, not opening it any further until instructed. 

He sits back in his chair, and gives an affirmative nod of his head. The door is pushed open, and in waltzes a familiar face that brings a smile to Vincent’s lips. “This is a nice surprise.” He stays seated, as his guest enters the study. “What brings you to this neighborhood, Undertaker?” 

“Would you believe me if I told you I had a client I was picking up? Hi hi hi.” The staccato laugh of the mortician makes the smile on his face grow. “You’re looking well, Vincent. You should have told me you were going to be in town.” Undertaker crosses the room, and walks around his desk to stand beside his chair. “Stand up.” 

Any other person, and he would have ignored the request. But not this man. He stands up, pushing his chair back as he brings his arms up to embrace the much taller man. “Who told you that I was going to be here?” He asks as Undertaker’s arms arms surround him, the strong smell of the his work clinging to his robes, as well as the mortician’s own unique smell. 

“A man never reveals their secrets.” Undertaker spoke in a soft tone near his ear. “Tell me, did you receive a package?” 

His cheeks burned, turning his head to avoid Undertaker from seeing him caught off-guard. “Are you the person that sent me that instrument meant as a tool for sexual stimulation?” 

“Ah, so you _do_ know what it is.” The arms around him held him a little tighter, which made Vincent hum in approval. “I was a bit worried you might think it’s something to be used every day.” 

“And why can’t it be?” He pulls back from Undertaker’s body, and looks up at him with a smirk now on his lips. “Is it going to be addicting if I use it on my body? Or, will I still like the intimate touch of one’s cock up my ass still?” 

The smile on the mortician’s face has Vincent’s face staying slightly flushed. “So crude. What have I told you about using such language?” 

“You want me to speak more frankly about this.” A long black nail touches his chin, Vincent not fighting the small movement as he leans his head back. “Was it you, Taker?” He asks, now with a little less confidence than before. “Or do I have another admirer to thank for this generous gift of future orgasms to look forward to?” 

Undertaker slides his finger along his jawline, before bringing the pad of his forefinger to touch his lips. “Let me go lock the door, so that I may show you how to properly use it on yourself.” 

“That would be perfect, thank you.” Vincent stays standing, as the mortician goes back over to the door and gives the lock a twist. “Might as well close the curtains for good measure. One can never be too careful - what if one of my neighbors is a perverted voyeur?” 

Sunlight disappears as the curtains are drawn, leaving the room to be lit by the two lamps burning with oil up above their heads. “Then I would expect you to be in London a lot more often, as I know you yourself are as sick as the rest of them.” Undertaker returns to his side. 

“I’m glad you know me as well as you do.” He rests both of his hands on his desk, palms facing down. “Will you take my trousers off for me?” 

“I would be delighted to~. Hi hi hi.” 

Keeping his palms on top of his desk, Vincent looks down at his school work. “I have to return to campus the day after tomorrow. My sister and I decided to stay here, except it seems she’s got the same agenda as myself right now.” 

“Is that so? Is she with that boy again? The one you don’t care for?” The belt around his waist is draped over his desk, as the vest he wears is casually unbuttoned before his trousers are unhooked. “Your friend’s fag, was it?” 

“Yes, him.” His trousers slide down his legs, his underwear moving with them as they pool around his ankles. He groans softly as Undertaker kneels beside him to take them off of his body, but not before his lips place a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. “What a horrible tease you are, Taker.” 

“You are correct.” Laughter leaves the mortician’s throat as he stands back up. “Now, you were correct.” Undertaker reaches for the box, and pulls the glass apparatus out. “This is something that you’ll want to use on yourself when that itch strikes you, and you’re unable to find a nice prick to fill that ass of yours.” 

Vincent nods his head slow, as he points to his desk. “If you need oil, there’s some in the second drawer on the right.” He hears it open, and exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Is this what one would call an afternoon delight?” 

“Among other things.” Undertaker stands behind him, and puts his hand on his lower back. “Use the desk to your advantage, please.” 

“Don’t make me orgasm on my carpet.” Vincent whispers, as he rests his cheek against the 

desk. “My staff doesn’t need to deal with that.” 

“Isn’t that their job?” His eyes close as he feels the cool tip of the apparatus begin to rub against his entrance. “Or is it because you know you’re doing something more perverse than normal, and don’t wish to subject them to your wicked ways?” 

Spreading his feet apart, he releases a deep moan as the fat tip is pushed into his body. It’s a lot different than what a human cock feels like, even with the retained shape. He knows it’s fake, and the glass is much cooler than what a stiff cock would feel like, but it isn’t bad. On the contrary, it feels quite divine, and the more that goes into his body the more his cock becomes painfully erect. 

He pushes his hips back a little, then feels Undertaker’s hand return to his lower back. “Not right now, Vincent. Let me control the pace.” 

“You’re going to make me insane if obey what you want.” 

“Isn’t that why this is so fun~? Hi hi hi.” 

A retort dies on his tongue as the glass tip is pushed right up against that sweet spot inside of him, bringing the hairs on his arms to stand on end. Instead, he buries his face against his arm, letting the fabric of his shirt mute the hedonistic noise that comes out of him. The glass object inside of him no longer feels painfully cold, it’s now taken on the heat of his body, and as it slides out of him he releases a soft whimper. 

“Good, Vincent.” Undertaker whispers into his ear, his chest now pressed against Vincent’s back. “Be vocal. None of your staff is upstairs. It’s just the two of us up here. Don’t be afraid to show how good you feel.” 

“Taker….” He moans the mortician’s name, his hands curling tight over the edge of the desk, as the glass apparatus is pushed back into him. “This device….it’s divine…” 

“Isn’t it?” A kiss to the nape of his neck distracts him from the unexpected twist of the toy inside of him. He gasps out a moan, his hips moving up more on the desk so that he’s now resting the upper weight of his body on top of his assignment, his legs dangling off the floor. “You can use it on yourself as often as you like, but you should know - it’s much better when a partner controls it for you.” 

“I can….imagine….” Vincent struggles to talk, as the toy is pushed in and out of him more. “But I want your cock…” 

“Maybe one day, you’ll be able to take both at the same time.” 

The toy is pulled out of him, leaving him gaping as he cries at the loss of being so full. But then, that touch of stiff flesh pushing up against his entrance turns the cry into a moan as he’s given what he wants. Strong hands pull him back towards the edge, his feet dropping down as Undertaker’s cock is pushed into his body with one quick thrust. He tosses his head back and moans loud, his cock now dripping onto the pages of his school work and right now he could care less about it. 

Undertaker pulls his hand off of Vincent’s left hip, and brings his hand to hold Vincent’s weeping cock. “That’s it, Vincent….” The mortician whispers into his ear, his long strands of silver hair now falling onto Vincent’s body with how close they are to one another. “My cock feels better than the glass, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, it does.” He nods his head, moaning louder as Undertaker’s thumb begins to tease the tip of his cock. “I’m going to come…” 

“That’s what I want.” Undertaker bites down on the side of his neck. 

His body shakes as he begins to ejaculate, his knees starting to buckle as the pleasure spreads throughout his entire body. But before he can fall, Undertaker is holding him up and pounding his cock relentlessly into his tight channel. It isn’t long before the rush of the mortician’s orgasm begins to flood his insides, causing him to moan more as he’s pushed back into that euphoric state. 

He groans as the cock in his ass is pulled out of him, and before he can say no, Vincent turns around and jumps up onto the desk, spreading his legs wide. The mortician slides back into him without any comment, the two of them now staring at each other as Undertaker’s cock fills him back up. It doesn’t take long for either of them to reach another orgasm, and by the time he’s filled with more of the mortician’s cum, Vincent is thoroughly spent. 

“What made you decide to buy this for me?” He asks, after they’ve both cleaned themselves up, Vincent now seated back in his chair. He looks at his schoolwork, and shakes his head. “I’ve got to write this all over again.” 

“No complaining~. Hi hi hi.” Undertaker lowers his head, and presses a kiss to the top of Vincent’s head. “I thought it was time to show you there are plenty of options when it comes to the world of sex. Do you like your gift?” 

“I do.” Vincent nods his head, as the mortician leaves his side to go and return the curtains to their opened state. “It’s a good thing I have my own private dormitory at school.” 

“I hope you enjoy it.” 

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay you for this gift.” He stands up, and walks with Undertaker over to the door. Reaching down, he turns the lock and then starts to open the door. He gives the mortician one more kiss before opening it the rest of the way. “I’ll be sure to inform you the next time I’m staying here, rather than you spy on me.” 

“Very well, my lord.” Undertaker tips his head towards him. “We’ll see each other soon.” 

“We will.” Nodding his head, he waits for the footsteps to disappear before closing the door to his study. 

Grabbing the glass apparatus off of his desk, he wipes it clean with his handkerchief, then returns it to its box. Tearing the pages out of his notebook, he picks up his pen and begins to transpose his notes to a clean piece of paper. His eyes go to the box, then he shakes his head as a smirk curls on his lips. He’d repay Undertaker for this gift one day, somehow. 


	4. A Little Bit of Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undertaker visits Vincent at the Phantomhive estate, where he assumes the role of Vincent’s master, and is catered to his needs by him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my fourth one shot for these two! Please enjoy! ^_ ^
> 
> Prompt: Master/Slave and Lap Dance

* * *

Undertaker looks down at Vincent, who has the most serene expression on his face as he kneels on the floor by his feet. A tea tray now balances on Undertaker’s knees, which is what he’s asked for but there’s something missing. “What did I say?” He asks, as he touches the top of Vincent’s head, his fingers curling under his chin as he holds Vincent’s head in place for a few moments before taking his hand away. 

“You requested tea, Master.” Obedience radiates from the Earl of Phantomhive’s aura, who continues to wear a serene look. “Is this not to your liking?” The expression begins to falter, as Undertaker keeps his eyes locked onto Vincent’s. “Master?” 

Looking down at the tray, he shakes his head. “You neglected to grab the cream.” He points to the empty spot on the tray. Vincent’s expression falters more, Undertaker’s lip curling up into a smirk as understanding passes through his eyes. “You know that I take my tea with cream, and yet you didn’t bring me any.” 

“I’m sorry, Master. I-” 

He holds up his hand, the apology stopping. “Turn around.” Taking the tray off of his lap, he sets it on the small table next to the couch he’s sitting on. They’ve chosen one of the Phantomhive’s many drawing rooms at their home in the country, far away from anyone that could bother them. It gives them the proper space to be able to execute this scenario that Vincent has to beg him to agree to. And as he’s worn down, he accepts his role as the master, with Vincent becoming his humble slave, eager to please.

The sun set hours ago, the study bathed in light coming from the hearth, a decent fire now burning for a dual purpose. The keep the room at a pleasant temperature, and to provide light for them. Undertaker is dressed in a suit rather than his normal cassock, per the request of the man groveling at his feet. Vincent, however, has very little clothing on - a simple lioncloth covers his unmentionables, leaving his buttocks bare as the lioncloth is pulled up to separate his cheeks. Which are now being presented to him as he debates on what sort of punishment he is going to dole out. 

Vincent remains on his hands and knees, keeping his head bowed down as Undertaker lifts his foot and gives the loincloth a little push with the tip of his shoe. He hears Vincent groan, the hardness of his cock pushing up against the soft leather of his shoe. “Did your Master say that you could make a noise?” 

Lowering his foot, he smiles as the sound stops as quickly as it began. Vincent lowers his chest down towards the floor, keeping his ass nice and high. If there had been no lioncloth on his body, Undertaker would be able to see inside of his body. Reaching down, he gives one slap to Vincent’s right cheek, then strikes him again with the same force to his left. “Thank you, Master.” Vincent replies, Undertaker thoroughly enjoying how it takes effort for Vincent to speak without sounding like a dog in heat. 

“You may turn around.” He waits for Vincent to shuffle around, and as he moves Undertaker sits back against the couch. “Now. Show me how sorry you are for your mistake.” 

Vincent stands up and begins to sway his hips to the beat of a tune that is only inside of his head. Undertaker’s eyes drink in the sight, as Vincent lifts his arms, his nails dragging along the planes of his torso before they are dropped back down to his sides. He moans low, wanting Vincent to know how pleased he is by this change of events, as his eyes go to the fingers now tugging on the lioncloth. 

He swallows as Vincent snaps it against his skin, then returns to rolling his hips in a highly seductive manner. Unknowingly, he starts to spread his knees apart, his slacks becoming a little too snug thanks to the actions of the Earl who is apologizing in the perfect way. When Vincent brings his body to be closer to him, now standing between his knees, he moans lower as Vincent brings his buttocks to be right up against his crotch, and begins to grind against him. 

“I’m sorry, _Master_…” Vincent whispers, looking over his shoulder at him. He pushes his hips back again, rubbing up against Undertaker’s stiffening cock. “Please, won’t you forgive me for forgetting to bring you some cream? I have my own cream, if you would prefer that.” 

Knowing he’s already lost this game, as Vincent has pulled his wild card out, Undertaker brings one hand to his hip and yanks him down to sit properly on his lap. “Are you offering your Master what I think you’re offering?” He murmurs into Vincent’s ear, as Vincent arches his back, his head now resting on Undertaker’s shoulder. “Some of that delicious….” He brings his hand down to the front of Vincent’s body, and brushes his fingers against the tip of his cock which is now poking up through the top of his lioncloth. “Sweet, yet salty cream….” 

“Yes, Master…” A rich moan reverberates in his ear as Undertaker slips his fingers underneath the lioncloth to tease the stiff flesh of Vincent’s cock. “Please, Master….I want to give you your cream….” 

“Then bring it to me.” He takes away his hand, and waits for Vincent to stand up on the couch. He brings his face to his groin, and with one hand peels away the lioncloth so that his cock pops out. Bringing his lips to the tip of his cock, he begins to suck on it slow, his eyes staring up at Vincent. 

“Is my Master pleased by how it tastes….?” Vincent rolls his hips, Undertaker dropping his jaw a little as he takes more of Vincent’s cock into his mouth. “I only wish to please you, sir…” 

He hums low his approval, as he brings his hand to Vincent’s ass, slipping one finger underneath the cloth to begin teasing his entrance with the pad of his index finger. As he swallows more of Vincent’s cock, he pushes one finger into him and hears his disobedient slave release a satisfied moan, as if this was the position he’d always hoped to end up in. And frankly, Undertaker had hoped as much as well. 

“Here comes your cream, Master….” Another low moan leaves Vincent’s mouth as he keeps three fingers pushed up inside of him. 

Vincent’s cock disappears from his mouth, and Undertaker stares up at him with his jaw dropped open, his tongue pushing up against his bottom lip to receive the cream from his lover’s cock. Cum drips down onto his tongue, Vincent using his own hand to make sure nothing is dripped onto the suit Undertaker is wearing, pouring more and more into his mouth with a low moan. 

Closing his mouth, he rolls Vincent’s essence around to coat the inside of his cheeks and then swallows it with a rich moan leaving his throat as he finishes it all. Pulling his fingers out of Vincent’s ass, he unhooks his slacks, and yanks him back down onto his lap, pushing the tip of his cock right up against Vincent’s entrance, and starts to push inside of him. 

“Such a naughty slave…” Undertaker kisses his neck, wrapping his arms tight around him as Vincent rides his cock. Lifting his head, he brings his lips to his lover’s ear. “My precious Vincent…” 

“My sweet ‘Taker…” 

Their mouths come together for a harsh kiss, as Undertaker bounces Vincent on his lap, his cock sliding in and out of him with ease. Every drop down he pushes himself in as far as he can, wanting Vincent to feel every inch of his cock. He silences Vincent’s moans with his mouth, as they continue to kiss with harsh, desperate kisses, as they continue to fornicate on the couch. Undertaker breaks off the kiss with a deep moan, as he feels cum beginning to spread on his stomach, Vincent’s head now buried against the side of his neck as he fucks him through an orgasm. Grinding him down on his cock, Undertaker waits a few moments and then begins to come himself, a low moan leaving his throat as his cock pulsates deep inside of Vincent, his cum coating his inner walls. 

Panting softly, Undertaker puts his hand against the back of Vincent’s head and holds him against his neck. “Did you enjoy that, m’lord?” 

“You know I did.” Vincent nods his head, rubbing his nose against his throat. “I do love when we do this together.” 

He slips out of him, and puts his pants back in order as he snaps the lioncloth back into place on Vincent’s body. “As do I.” He turns his head to find Vincent’s lips, and kisses him softly. “Except you have stained another shirt. Hi hi hi.” 

“Are you complaining?” Hazel eyes stare up at him with a hint of mirth on his face. “Because if you are-” 

Undertaker returns his lips to Vincent’s to stop him from saying anything else. “Would you like for me to stay the night?” 

“When do I ever banish you away?” Vincent wraps his arms around his neck, and taking his cue Undertaker stands up and carries him out of the room. Carrying him down the hallway to his second bedroom, Undertaker closes the door with his foot and lies him down on the bed first before removing all of his clothes to join him on the bed. “We still have plenty of hours before the dawn comes.” Vincent holds up his arms to him, which he naturally falls into. 

“That we do.” With a smile on his lips, Undertaker lays down beside him and soon is back inside of his body, the lioncloth now gone. No longer master and slave, but two men who have a penchant for one another. 


	5. Forever Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent learns that his family is to go on an extended holiday to Paris. He races to spend his last night in London with the one person that matters more to him than anyone else on the planet - Undertaker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here is my last one shot for these two. ^_^ Please enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: Mirror Sex

* * *

Vincent rides through the streets of London, urging his horse to go faster as he rides like the wind to his destination. He doesn’t wish to think, doesn’t wish to do much of anything right now except to get to the one person who can take all of this turmoil away. Tears sting his eyes as the wind whips around him, the mare galloping fast as she’s been trained to do. All of the Phantomhive’s equine have been trained as such, as one never knows when they’re going to need to race the devil. 

Yanking on the reins, his horse comes to a stop outside of his destination. Tying her to a post, he thanks her for pushing herself, then feeds her some carrots he’d kept in his pocket, knowing that he was going to push her. He fixes his tie, vest and coat and then heads to the door. He pulls it open with a quick jerk, and silently prays that there is no one around. 

“Be right with you~!” A disembodied voice greets him as he enters the dark shop. He takes off his gloves, and waits for the curtain to be pulled back, his chest still heaving from moving as fast as he could through the streets of London. “Vincent?” The shock he hears in Undertaker’s voice as he steps out from the back returns the tears to his eyes as he tries to stay calm. “What is the matter? You look dreadful.” 

“I’m going to Paris for an indefinite amount of time.” His sister had dropped the bomb on him as soon as he’d returned to the estate. “We leave tomorrow, and I’m not sure when our return trip is for. I don’t want to go. I have too many things going on, and I don’t want to leave-” 

Undertaker’s hands settle on his shoulders, his voice cracking on the last word as he looks up at him with a pleading look on his face. “You’ve gone on holiday before. This is no different.” Black nail polish appears in his peripheral vision as Undertaker wipes his thumb against his cheek to take away the tears that have begun to fall. “What is your concern, my dear Vincent? That upon your return, I may not want to have coitus with you? Do you think so little of me that I would be so finicky to find someone new?” 

“Never.” _I’m afraid I won’t last_. “I know where your allegiance lies, Taker.” He steps closer to the mortician, his cheek coming to rest against the soft wool of his cassock. “You’re busy with the dead.” 

“Then, if it’s yourself you’re worried about, don’t be.” Undertaker’s fingers guide him to lift his head up to look up at him properly. “You’re not tethered to me, Vincent. You’re allowed to explore your sexual feelings with others - women, or men.” 

Staring up at him, he tries to accept what Undertaker tells him, but it’s difficult. “Do you want me to sleep with someone else? Is that why you’re being so nice about this? Because I don’t want to, Taker. But a man has his needs. And if I’m stuck across the Channel from you for an indefinite amount of time, I might go crazy.” 

“That’s why I’m telling you that it’s alright.” Vincent turns his head as Undertaker’s palm comes to rest on the side of his face. “We all have needs. Besides, once you’ve had an experience with someone else, you’ll know who treats you the best.” 

Glancing up, he sees a smirk on Undertaker’s face, his one visible yellow-green eye staring down at him. “Pervert.” He sniffles, but cracks a smile at the comment. “You just want me to experience others so I can come back here and proclaim your cock the best on the isle.” 

“Is that so wrong?” The smirk turns to a grin, Undertaker pulling him into an embrace. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” 

“We board the ship in the afternoon. Which means I have to be back at the estate early in the morning.” Vincent sighs, keeping his face pressed up against Undertaker’s chest. “Can I stay here with you? I won’t bother you.” 

A soft chuckle sends heat spreading throughout his body. “I wish that you could, Vincent. But we both know that you can’t. Let’s see, it’s half past five now. That leaves us twelve hours to enjoy together until you have to head back, correct?” Vincent nods his head. “Is your mare outside?” 

“She is.” The chill of the room returns as Undertaker pulls away from him. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“I’ll bring her around to be with my horses. Go and make yourself comfortable in my bedroom.” Undertaker walks towards the entrance of his shop. “I won’t take long.” 

“You promise?” He asks, hating how weak he sounds. But every second that they’re apart means less time they can be together, and right now time is of the essence. 

“Hi hi hi. Yes, of course.” Undertaker’s laugh fills his soul. “Now, shoo. Go downstairs. You’ll see - I won’t be gone for too long.” 

“You’d better not be.” Vincent waits for him to walk through the door, then heads towards the curtain that separates the shop from Undertaker’s dwelling. 

Taking the stairs down, he heads to Undertaker’s bedroom and walks inside. It’s as modest as his shop is, with a four poster bed in the middle of the room. It had been just a mattress, but once they’d dipped their toes into this romance they have with one another, Vincent had insisted on a proper bed. He stands in the middle of the room and begins to undress himself, setting his clothes on top of the small dresser Undertaker keeps. In the corner of the room is a standing mirror, and getting an idea into his head, he grabs it and moves it to be in front of the bed. He stares at his naked body, his cock filling with more blood as the seconds tick by. Spreading his knees, he stares at the way his sac hangs between his thighs, wondering how much longer he’s going to have to wait for his lover to return. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs, Vincent visibly relaxing now that he knows Undertaker is here. The door to his bedroom is pushed open, and he sees a pleased look on his face. “You’ve done a bit of rearranging, haven’t you? Hi hi hi~.” 

“Let me get you undressed?” Holding up his hands, he waits for Undertaker to take away the view of his naked body as he stands between his parted thighs. “Can you blame me? You know how I like sitting on your lap, having your cock buried inside of me. This way, I’ll be able to see your face.” 

“Assuming you’ll be able to keep your eyes open.” Undertaker teases him, as his fingers get the top half of his cassock unbuttoned. “You know you close your eyes when the pleasure is too much for you to handle.” 

Blushing, he ducks his head as he unbuttons the rest of the buttons. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.” He’s aware he does have a predilection of closing his eyes, but that’s because it feels so good that he can’t help himself. Two tugs, and then Vincent is pulling Undertaker’s pants down. “Oh, good. You took your boots off.” He looks down at Undertaker’s bare feet, pleased to see he wouldn’t have to work on that. 

“I’m in as much of a hurry as you are to get things going, my dear Vincent.” Undertaker cups his hand underneath his chin, the two of them now equally naked. “Did you have the foresight to prepare yourself?” 

Vincent shakes his head. “I guess you’ll have to take care of that for me, Taker.” He picks up the bottle of oil he’d pulled out of his own pocket earlier, and hands it to him. “Unless you’d rather I do it for you?” 

“Now there’s an idea.” The bottle is taken away from him. Undertaker places a hand on Vincent’s chest, pushing him to lay down on the soft mattress. “But seeing as soon you’ll be having to do this on your own, why don’t you let me take care of it for you this evening?” 

He drops his shoulders, his head hitting the bed as the gentle touch of the mortician’s finger starts to cause his anus to pucker. “Don’t remind me. Can we not talk about it again until I leave in the morning?” His heart hammers in his chest, the finger that’s teasing his entrance begins to work its way inside of his body. 

“If you prefer to not think about it, then I’ll heed that request, my Lord.” 

Lifting himself up on his elbows, he stares down at Undertaker who has a wiley smile on his face as the finger inside of him is pushed in further. “What’s with the sudden formality? Can’t I be Vincent? _Your_ Vincent?” 

“Look forward.” Vincent lifts his head, and sees a second finger being pushed into his body. He groans low, taking a deep breath as Undertaker pushes both fingers into him. “What do you see?” 

“A perverse act.” He whispers, as he brings one leg up to open himself more. He moans as he sees Undertaker bring his ring finger closer to where the two fingers inside of him are. It worms its way in with the other two fingers, Vincent’s mouth dropping down with another rich moan leaving his throat as all three fingers stretch him. “Taker, are you watching too…?” 

“How can I, when my eyes are watching each beautiful expression you grace me with?” 

His eyes move from the mirror, to look down at both yellow-green eyes that are shown to him. “You don’t have to sweet talk me. Your fingers are inside of me, and soon your cock will be too.” 

“I’m not.” Undertaker stands up, keeping his fingers inside of Vincent as he leans closer to where his head is. “To watch you is one of my favorite activities.” 

Puckering his lips, the soft moan that tries to leave his throat disappears when the mortician's lips land on his. Opening his mouth, he pushes his tongue into Undertaker’s mouth, the fingers inside of him pumping in and out, his body growing used to the spread. Breaking off the kiss, he stares up into Undertaker’s eyes, the light in the room becoming muted due to long strands of silver hair now curtaining around his face. “Pull me up, and let me sit on your lap.” 

The mortician does as he’s asked, and soon he’s sitting on Undertaker’s lap, his back to his scarred chest, his own body still free from scars. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he begins to receive wounds himself. He’s no fool - he just has to remember to stay ahead of his opponents that wish to take down the Queen’s Watchdog. Spreading his thighs open, he balances himself on Undertaker’s knees and pushes back to the feel the tip of his cock nudging up against his prepped entrance. 

“Allow me, my Lord.” Cool hands touch his hips, Vincent submitting to Undertaker’s movements as he’s pulled back as the mortician’s cock is pushed into his body. His eyes stare at the mirror, focusing on the spot between his legs, where he can see Undertaker’s thickness going in at a slow pace. “Are you watching…?” 

“Yes.” He moans low, as his body takes more of Undertaker’s cock, his knees spreading more to get into a better position to see it all. His own cock drips with precum, the sticky fluid sliding down the length of his prick without a care in the world. He sees it drip down to his sac, and then watches as gravity has it go down to be on Undertaker’s sac. “God, does it always look like this to you?”    


“It does.” Vincent can see one yellow-green eye looking over his shoulder, the two staring at their reflection together. “And now, you can see what my body does to yours to make it feel good. Watch…” 

He’s pushed forward, and through the space between their legs he sees Undertaker’s cock slowly slipping out of him. Vincent exhales a lewd moan as he watches it being forced back into his body, the thick cock disappearing from view to be seated back into him, his inner walls struggling to fit around it. “I want to watch you touch me too…” He begs, his voice somewhat ragged. 

Undertaker’s scarred hand wraps around his cock, his mind torn between looking at the mortician’s hand and his cock. Both are doing a number on him, so much so that he’s deaf to the bawdy noises he continues to make with each simple push of his own hips. Teeth grab onto his earlobe, forcing another deep moan to leave his throat. 

“You will _always_ be mine, Vincent.” Undertaker whispers into his ear, as he’s bounced hard on his lap. “One day, when you’re married - you know you’ll be able to come to me for a quick fuck, or some other perverseness that you’ll be too shy to share with your bride.” He moans louder as more words are whispered into his ear. “My cock will always know the space in your body that no woman will ever be able to touch. Not in the way my body can. Now, tell me who you will always belong to?” 

“You!” Vincent moans, hovering right on the edge of absolute bliss. “You, Taker! Yours….forever…” 

“Forever…” 

One rough tug on his cock, and Vincent is screaming, his eyes watching as cum begins to spill from the tip of his cock. He grinds himself down on Undertaker’s cock, and feels him begin to throb inside of him. His eyes go to the mortician’s ball sac, and sees it begin to move upwards, the warm heat of his orgasm beginning to spread deep inside of Vincent’s body. He pulls himself off of Undertaker’s cock, and is quick to push the man down on the bed, so that he can ride his cock properly. 

His fingers drag down the mortician’s chest, trails of red blooming against the scars that cover Undertaker’s body. “Don’t quit on me now, Taker….I need more. I want _more_….All night….” 

“Yes, my darling Vincent.” 

Three more rounds of sex are all they can handle before their bodies protest for a rest. Undertaker cooks them a simple meat stew, and once their bellies are full, they bathe together in the mortician’s large tub, the water staying warm thanks to the fireplace in the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, a few more rounds are enjoyed, then both pass out from sheer exhaustion, limbs staying tangled together as they fall asleep with smiles on their faces. 

Vincent wakes up when the clock chimes five times. “Don’t go.” Undertaker whispers, keeping him close. “Stay with me. Let your family go to Paris without you.” 

“As wonderful as that sounds, we both know I can’t.” He sighs, and then turns over to look at his lover. “One more time, then I’ll go.” 

“Once won’t be enough.” 

“I know, but it’s all the time we have.” 

“Then we’d better make haste.” 

They wind up having sex two more times, because Undertaker is always right. Once had not been enough, and even twice isn’t, but with time slipping away it is all they can do. Vincent fixes his clothes, then heads to the back of shop with Undertaker to collect his mare. 

“Have a good time in Paris.” Undertaker looks up at him, as he fixes himself on his horse. “I meant what I said last night, Vincent. Experience life like you should as a man at your age.” 

Looking down at his lover, he nods his head with a sad smile on his face. “When I return, you had better clear your schedule. I don’t care of the Queen herself dies upon my return, and you’re scheduled to assist with her burial. You are mine when my feet return to British soil.” 

“Hi hi hi. Of course, Vincent. Take care of yourself~.” The mortician pats the mare’s ass. “See you soon.” 

“Bye, Taker!” Vincent waves, then clicks his heels against his mare to have her take off through the foggy streets of London. 

_Forever yours_. His own voice echoes in his mind, as he rides back to his estate out in the country. Vincent know that Undertaker is right - he should go and explore what the rest of the world has to offer to him. But his heart will forever be linked to the man whose presence he’d just left. He’ll see him again soon - and depending on what life offers him, he may return with a multitude of experiences that he’ll be able to show his lover without respite. Because that is the nature of their relationship, and how it always will be. 


End file.
